Moments of "light"

Since about March of 2009, every time that I realize the date I have a mini-"freak out," or brief moment where I am paralyzed shock. Why? I am not sure that I can explain. It is just the small realization everyday that time is uncontrollably flying by, and the hope that I am using my time to its maximum potential. I am beginning this post on December 18th. Wow. This means that I have been in Israel for nearly 5 months, and in the Mechina for 4 months. That is a substantial amount of time. I always viewed December as some sort of milestone in my process this year. Perhaps it is the way that I understand time, which is sort of an ellipse, or running track, with August at one end and December at the other. In my mind, to finish December is to take a huge sharp turn on this track and to see the next length span out into the distance. A turn usually means that one has already accomplished/overcome half the distance. However, it is hard for me to idly accept this turn when I am still unsure of what I have achieved up until this point. So rather than attempting to truly fill you in on every detail of how I have been spending my year, I will instead continue with the theme of the Hanukkah Seminar that we just finished this past week, and focus on the "moments of light."

We will rewind some time back to what I still believe was the most demanding week in the Mechina, in terms of the schedule. It was the week before we participated in a joint shabbat with Netzer (the strand of the Reform youth group that exists in England, Australia, and South Africa) gap year program. An incredible aspect of the Mechina is how it lends the opportunity to every single participant, even those who one might not label as a leader, to take responsibility, lead, and give to the group. This was my first opportunity to truly plan and lead a program in the Mechina. I was petrified, but it was about time. Most of that non-stop week was made even more crazy because of the fact that we threw this weekend together only the week before the actual event. [[SIDE NOTE: For all who do not know- the Mechina's schedule is ridiculously intense. We finish everyday around 10 pm, and if one has cleanup duties then the day ends even later. And before the day ends, if one's schedule allows for it, there may be one hour of free time.]] The craziness of this particular week began on wednesday- we had a program with Josh Laufer, a lecturer from PEACE NOW, and a program with the Mechina that we hosted for the night- Mechina Meitzar. The program ended at 12. We woke up at 3 am to embark on our full day tiyul up north in Zevitan. Although I would in NO WAY define myself as a hiker, the hikes that we go on every other week are one of my favorite things about the Mechina. As the week goes on, the combination of the classes, volunteering, and separation between the groups builds; the hikes always seem to arrive at the perfect time, exactly when the group needs it. For a full day, we venture out beyond the confines of our building, and Yafo, and walk and talk. This particular hike was just the perfect amount of difficulty for me. It was in the North, so clearly some of the greenery and sights were stunning. On this hike, our first stop was a body of water. Rather than get into the freezing water the normal way, Nof, Gabriella, and myself decided to jump from the cliff. Not the smartest idea we have ever had, but we decided to do the most exhilarating thing that we c0uld have possibly done at that moment. Nof jumped first. Then Gabriella attempted...chickened out. Okay, I stood on the ledge next. As I stood there i realized that it looked a lot higher and scarier in that spot than it had looked when I had made the silly decision to jump. Perhaps I'll turn back now? Still time. No chance. Stop thinking, and jump. So I did. It was thrilling to fly through the air for a good long second and then plunge into the freezing water. True, the cliff was not so high, it was essentially a "safe" risk, yet the task was still daunting. I feel that this moment perfectly explains the type of leap that I took when deciding to participate in the Mechina. It was a leap, yes, but the safest leap that I could have taken. As Naami, my aunt, told me the night before I began my year journey she told me: "Imagine that you are jumping from an airplane. You have a parachute on your back, a net below you, and angels flying around you." Yes, I leaped into a new program, environment, language, and culture, but came with one of the strongest support systems that I have. My family in Jerusalem and the supportive environment of the Mechina offer me the strength or type-of-"bravery" to take these leaps.

The friday after this hike, we all woke up early and piled into the bus. We were on our way to our first tour of South Chevron. Chevron is one of the largest cities in the West bank, and also one of the most complex and troubled places in this country. Many religious Jews feel strongly tied to the land, as do many Palestinians. If I am not mistaken (I may be however), parts of Chevron were given back to the Palestinians, who have lived on the land for years, yet the settlements persist. The clash between these two groups of people unfortunately yield violent outcomes. If the Mechina is about anything, it is about "process." These tours of Chevron were a process. On the first tour we spoke to a soldier that served in Southern Chevron, learned the history of the land, the rules that apply there and were exposed to the beliefs of the Palestinians living in the area. Our speaker, the former soldier, was a man who went to a school that many Mechinistim went to, and also chose to do a year in Mechina. He spoke of his experiences in Chevron where he was told to destroy homes (which ended up being the incorrect homes), evict people from their homes in the middle of the night, and do a plethora of immoral actions. His account shook every member of the Mechina. Every person in the Mechina [besides myself] will inevitably begin their army service after we conclude this year in the Mechina. One of the sole purposes of Mechinot is to teach its participants how to think for themselves, to lead, and to be aware. The speaker told us that it does not matter how much one is taught to think for himself, or the morality that he learns from school or his family, when placed in that situation all that one knows goes out the window. To a group who feel that they are moral beings and independent thinkers, it was a difficult statement to hear. The last stop of the day was the Palestinian village of Susia. There we sat in the tent of a Palestinian family and heard a personal account of what it means to live in that area, the difficulties and dangers that come with it, the neglect they receive from the soldiers in the area, and the essential commodities that they lack. The man explained that he is second generation in Chevron, that they have no running water or electricity, and that in order to educate their children they have to send them away to boarding schools. He told accounts of extreme settlers that came into their village (which is essentially composed of falling-apart tents that are spread out across the desert floor) and used an axe to kill the Palestinian residents, while a nearby army watchtower viewed and did nothing. In short, everyone loaded the bus for the final time with a suffocating feeling of helplessness. Many were unaware of the happenings in Chevron, and simply left in shock. I, on the other hand, was aware, yet it did not make it any easier to witness and hear. The moment that touched me most was when I saw the Palestinian's children. It is upsetting to know that they are unavoidably bound to a future filled with the same perpetual struggle that they all face when living in that area. Listening to this family also added weight to the small question that always sits hidden away in the back of my mind, yet sometimes arises in moments of difficulty and questioning- it is the question of if I feel/agree with the importance and legitimacy of the land, and the state of Israel in general. The second time we visited the area we heard from the settlers. This time we learned to second side to the story. Personally, I found this perspective to be more intriguing. Never in my life have I spoken to people this extreme. They live on the land for they feel that it is their moral and religious duty. It is based purely on faith and on nothing else. One on hand, I respect their strong beliefs- for I am a moderate person who is still in the process of forming beliefs, but will still never have beliefs that rigid- and on the other hand I find little reason in what they are doing, and simply cannot comprehend where they are coming from.

MOVING ALONG:
After the hike, tour, and shabbat with Netzer the whole Mechina attended the Atzeret Rabin- the memorial rally for Yitchak Rabin. The atmosphere of the rally was incredibly positive and placed the emphasis more on the possibility of peace then on the death of Yitzchak Rabin. After that short stop we loaded the bus and drove all the way south to Kibbutz Yahel, (one of the Reform Kibbutzim in Israel), for a week of work! For five days we awoke at 4:45 am, lathered ourselves in sunscreen, and loaded the truck to go to work. Our first task: stack mesh bags that were used to pick dates. We worked for about 9 hours a day. In spite of the fact that it was probably the MOST boring job we could have been given, we passed the time splendidly with songs and ridiculous games that involved acting like animals. When we finished that job, our next task was to pick up all of the leftover scraps from the date trees. During these moments we very much missed the easy sack-stacking job. Now we spent hours being pricked by the sharpest branches and ending the day with our bodies covered in tiny red spots. In short: not enjoyable.

The week of work in the kibbutz was such a refreshing experience. Do not get me wrong, I love Yafo. It is the first time that I have ever lived in a city in my life, and the amount to explore is limitless. Yet, spending the week on the kibbutz reminded me of how much I crave for space, how much I miss the color green, and the act of simply sitting outside. For the first time since the beginning of the Mechina, I found the space to sit and have very intense discussions with just one other person- which is entirely impossible in the Mechina building. The week also gave everyone the chance to leave all of the questions, difficulties, and issues involving the Mechina, back in Yafo. For one week, I had the gift of not worrying about the happenings of the Mechina, and the opportunity to think about real, more concrete, things which I had pushed to the side for months. While in the Kibbutz I thought very much about the way of life of a kibbutznik, and all their unique gains by growing up in this type of environment.

NEXT BIG EVENT: A week in the army!
We came back from the week of work exhausted, yet satisfied and ready to (FINALLY!) begin this so-called routine. Hm. Yep. That routine lasted for a good two weeks, and then we embarked on what is called the "Shavua Tzavah," or week of army service. What scared us the most about this week was that we had NO idea what to expect. The Yahalom base, a base that trains soldiers in combat and explosives, led a one week army simulation for us. It mostly simulated "basic training." This week included a sufficient amount of: being yelled at, combat portions (which = the same meal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner), performing the same task about 14 million times until we did it correctly, running around to find fallen hats, attempting to remain in "matzav shtayim" (the push up stance) for long periods of time, wearing a uniform which was approximately 14 sizes too large, and learning how to shoot the M16 guns that we constantly carried around with us. For three of these days we were in the "shetach" or the field. We slept in gigantic tents, and during the night each person had a "shmirah" (guard) duty. Not one night in the shetach was without a surprise "hakpatzah." We were woken up in the middle of the night by explosives, given about 30 seconds to put on our vests, shoes, and guns and be in specific places. On the first night we ran around for about an hour with all of this equipment. On the second night we walked and ran in two straight lines and rotated carrying around Chezi on a stretcher.
When asked to define my experience in during the shavua tzavah, the word that I overuse is interesting. But that really describes it all. For one week I was exposed to a world that I had never truly understood or thought about in-depth. My mind and feelings towards the army were stretched in so many different directions. The week was quite hard for me. But in my life, it was just a week. In the lives of many of my fellow Mechinistim, this is the reality that they have to face for the next three years. We all know the term combat, but for the first time I understood what being a soldier in combat entailed, and it absolutely petrified me. Over the week, I considered all of the implications that growing up in a country where the army is mandatory has on its citizens. The hardest part for me then, and what still is difficult, is that I cannot decide if I agree with it. Not only the idea that it is mandatory, but the idea of armies in general. As an outsider spending the year in Israel, and being given the choice to enlist in the army, opens up another internal conflict. I cannot say that I agree with something being mandatory, however, choice is a scary thing. At one moment in the week I would be against the army, and at the next moment my mind would be in a completely different place. We ended our experience at a "kennes" (ceremony) for a unit that had just finished their very intense year and a half track. The ceremony was one of the most exciting events I have ever attended. As the soldiers were climbing up the mountain after a 5 day hike, I suddenly felt very strongly attached to this situation (in which i had no connection to whatsoever) and had the very strong urge to join in with everyone else and cry. I cannot imagine what it would be like to attend this type of ceremony for someone that I do know. I would bawl. In short, the week of army service opened up quite a lot of questions for me, but did not afford many answers. Luckily, it is a subject that we are constantly dealing with during this year.

And for the last big event of this post...
Although ridiculous, I very much expected myself to miss the states during December, and to yearn for the atmosphere that comes along with the American holiday season. However, I quickly learned that there was nothing to worry about. In Israel, every Christmas carol and light is replaced by the non-stop singing of Hanukkah songs for about two weeks and decorations all over the streets. In the Mechina, we had a large number of events surrounding hanukkah. The first being a program called Meirim at Yafo, or lighting up Jaffa. For an entire day every Mechina member and 60 other volunteers visited every one of the Mechina's volunteer places--we led programs, sang every hanukkah song in existence, danced, ate jelly donuts, and schmoozed. One of my stop during the day was a personal visit to an elderly woman's home with Ory Hess. She hesitated to open the door for us, for Yafo is not the safest area at dusk. In the end we entered the apartment that she lives in alone, lit the candles, recited the blessings, drank A LOT of water (she kept insisting), and heard a bit of her life story. At that point in the day, I had already been to three other places filled with smiling people. Yet this intimate encounter gave be the ability to see the amount of joy a project like this brings to people. On our way back, Ory Hess and I stopped in the middle of the neighborhood Yafo Dalet sat down and watched the sunset together.

The next day, we awoke VERY early, loaded the bus, and began our three day Hanukkah Seminar. The greatness of the Mechina is that it is mostly run by its participants; this includes the five seminars that we experience during the year. Nof, Yotam Eshed, Shai, Gabriella, Sarig, and myself took on the daunting task of planning this seminar for the entire group. Here is the way it works...The counselors say: Your region is the south. You have three empty days. Do something with them. Essentially we built a deep and meaningful process by starting at zero. Our theme (as I mentioned at the beginning of this ridiculously long post) was "Signs of Light." Our goals: Expose the Mechina to people and places that create/bring light, brighten the group's collective light, and create light in the places that we visited. Each day of the seminar is worthy of its own never-ending post, so instead of making you suffer, I'll be concise. The first stop was Sderot, where we learned about the daily dangers that the residents face. At one of our stops, we hiked up a small hill, and at the stop were exposed to an incredibly clear and near view of Gaza. About a year ago, I remember being glued to the television and newspaper following the situation there. To suddenly stand before it and have the powerful realization that it is no longer some imaginary, distant place that exists in the newspapers (that I read in the comfort of my room at home), but a real and deeply complex area, is a difficult fact to grasp. After our tour we had our opening activity, which began with everyone sitting in solitude for 30 minutes. During that time each person reflected and wrote about moments of light and darkness in his/her life--in terms of home, family, childhood, and the Mechina. The Mechina is a terribly hard program to experience, and I have had many "challenging" moments in my life, yet as I sat facing the very real Gaza and attempted to recount every moment in my life, I had a hard time finding darkness. Perhaps it was because I looked Gaza in the eye, put my own life into perspective and understood how fortunate I am, or perhaps in retrospect the moments of light are more outstanding than those of darkness. After those 30 minutes, we gathered the group, blindfolded everyone, and slowly led them into circles. One way of brightening the group's light was through communication, so we chose an interesting way to communicate. Everyone remained blindfolded throughout the discussion. They recognized the others voices, yet the beginning was scary as they spoke to an anonymous group. That night we participated in a workshop led by the dance group Hunger Adama in Mitzpe Ramon. The workshop consisted of a lot of walking around in circles, leading others in dance with their hands or heads, and no verbal communication. For one activity we were paired up with our eyes closed and told to sit back to back with our partner. We were then given a series of instructions about putting pressure on our partners back or stretching. This entire activity took about 10 minutes, where partners found themselves depending 100% on each other for support from an anonymous figure.
Other highlights: Star gazing in Sede Boker, learning about the history of Yerucham, the entire Mechina going crazy in a second hand clothing store where everything cost one shekel, learning about the Bedouin situation, visiting a school for blind children, and meeting Darfurian refugees.

Overall, the Seminar was filled with moments of light, interesting speakers, open chairs, dark places where we strained our eyes to find light, group development, reminiscing about the 4 months that had passed, and feeling of fulfillment.

Various articles...

For the first Mechina newspaper I was asked to write an article that encapsulated "my experience" up until now. I was thrilled that they gave me such a specific topic. I struggled to quickly process and verbalize how I felt about my first month in the Mechina. Here is my attempt: (translation by Leora Ezrachi-Vered)

לרוב , אין זה רעיון טוב להיקלע למצב חדש כאשר אין אמצעי אמין לתקשר עם העולם החיצוני. אמצעי התקשורת שלי נלקח ממני ביום הראשון בבניין החדש. איבדתי את המחשב הנייד תוך כדי ההתרגשות האדירה של ההתחלה החדשה. איבדתי את היכולת לשלוח יד החוצה ולקבל את התמיכה מהבית ולשמור על שפיותי. זה הרי טבעי לגמרי להרגיש בסיטואציה חדשה כאילו השפיות נלקחת מאיתנו ושמערכת התמיכה המוכרת נשלפת במהירות מתחתינו. המצב הכריח אותי לפנות פנימה, אל תוך הקבוצה החדשה איתה אני חיה כדי לקבל תמיכה. למעשה, החלטתי לסמוך על קבוצה שהיא תוצר של תרבות אחרת ממה שאני מכירה.

לפני שהגעתי למכינה, הרהרתי ברעיון של מחסומים. המחסום הבולט והברור ביותר (שמרגיש שהוא תבוע על מצחי) הוא כמובן, פער השפה. לאחר מחשבה נוספת בנוגע לרעיון של "מחסום" הבנתי שמסביבי מחסומים רבים ולא רק מחסום של שפה. ישנם מחסומים ופערים של דרכי חיים שונות, אידיאולוגיות, אמונות דתיות, דעות פוליטיות וכמעט הכל יכול להוות מחסום. אני כל הזמן מגלה ומערכיה ומתמודדת עם הפערים הללו ורואה אותן בדרכים בולטות יותר ומרומזות יותר. ההבחנה הראשונה אליה הגעתי שישראלים הם פשוט רועשים יותר. הם מוחאים כפיים יותר משצריך ואוהבים לעורר ויכוחים. במובן העמוק יותר, דרכי החשיבה שלנו שונות בדרך בה אנו מבינים זהות דתית, פטריוטיות, מערכות יחסים, תפקידים מגדריים ונושאים כלליים. טרם החלטתי אם ברצוני לאמץ את נקודת המבט הישראלית בנושאים הללו אך הם בהחלט מעוררים בי עניין.

המחסומים קיימים. אני מוכנה לקבל את זה. אולם, אם נריץ אחורה לתחילת החוויה של במכינה הרגשתי קודם כל את התכונות האנושיות של חמלה והבנה. כאשר המכשיר העיקרי שלי לתקשורת עם בני משפחתי וחברי בארצות הברית נלקחו ממני הקבוצה הגיבה בצורה מדהימה. דאגתם וטוב ליבם נוגע וממשיכה לגעת בליבי. למרות שבהתחלה לא הרגשתי בהם ברור שהמחסומים עוד עומדים ביננו. יחד עם זאת המחסומים אינם מגדירים את החוויה שאני עוברת (עד כה) במכינה. קשה להרגיש בהבדלים כשאנחנו מכינים ארוחת בוקר ביחד, שוחים בים או רוכבים על אופניים בלילות בתל אביב. הדברים העיקריים הם דומים. אנו חולקים מטרה משותפת ומטרה זו ממלא אותי בהרבה יותר תקווה ושמחה מאשר כל מחשב או פריט חומרי אחר.

It is never ideal for one to be thrown into a new situation without a dependable means to connect with the outer, more familiar, world. My outlet was taken on the first day in our new building. I lost the computer while we were distracted by the excitement of a fresh start. I lacked the option to reach outward for comfort and to maintain my sanity—for it is completely normal for one in a new situation to feel one's sanity slip away as one's support system is entirely ripped out from beneath her. The situation forced me to turn inward to this new concept of group living to obtain the desired support. Essentially, I decided to depend on a group that is a product of a different culture.

Before my arrival at the Mechina, I pondered the very relevant idea of barriers. The clear and present (although always diminishing) barrier stamped on my forehead is the language. After further thought on the notion of a "barrier," I understand that I am surrounded by many other boundaries, not solely the language. Barriers exist between ways-of-life, mind-set, political ideologies, religious beliefs, and nearly everything. I continually discover, appreciate, and cope with these disparities, and view them in the largest and smallest ways. The first simple observation that I made is that Israelis are louder. They clap way more than necessary and happily engage in provoking arguments. On a deeper level, our thought processes differ in terms of how we understand the complex subjects of religious identity, patriotism, relationships, gender roles, and general manners. I have yet to decide if I wish to adopt any of the Israeli perspective on these issues, but they interest me nonetheless.

Barriers undoubtedly exist. I am willing to accept that. However, if we rewind to the beginning of my Mechina experience, the universal human characteristics of compassion and understanding struck me first. When my primary means of communication with my family and friends was taken, the group reacted in an incredible way. I continue to be deeply touched by their concern and kindness. Although I did not initially feel them, it is clear to me that the barriers remain; yet barriers in no way define my experience (thus far) in the Mechina. It is difficult to feel the differences when we prepare breakfast together, swim at the beach, or bike ride through Tel Aviv at night. The important matters are the same. We share a common goal, and that goal fills me with much more comfort and hope than any computer or other material object could.

OTHER ARTICLES:

An article that I wrote for Jewishinstlouis.org-

http://www.jewishinstlouis.org/page.aspx?id=210337

Searching for home.

Our Seminar Sukkot began in Har Halutz, a yishuv founded by Reform Jews who made aliyah. The theme for the seminar was "חיפוש "or "Searching." Each day we explored a different form of searching and a different idea or object that we search for, whether it be abstract or concrete.


I identified most strongly with the day when we discussed the subject of "searching for home." Every member of the Mechina is currently undergoing this tough process of searching, finding, and building our home together. However, the leaders of the seminar felt that it would be powerful to hear from a member of the Mechina. So they picked me. I reluctantly said yes. Although it is something that I have whined through yet achieved time and time again, public speaking is not my favorite pastime. But I said yes. As someone who constantly seeks and requests the help of others and the patience of the whole Mechina, I felt that it was my time to help out in the smallest way possible. If there is anything that I can lend, anything that is certain, it is my personal experiences. I began my short talk by clarifying that I am not here to educate, I do not bear novel concepts. I am here to share. First I answered the question, "What is home for me?" Well, I was born and raised in Saint Louis, Missouri. Not the most interesting city in the world, but interesting enough. We contributed our fair share to society--such as the ice cream cone. I also added that my mother refers to Saint Louis as a "life sentence," yet I am the product of two non-native Saint Louisans, therefore this label does not apply to me. I have strong ties to my home and community, yet I in no way feel tied to them permanently. Also, when discussing "what is home for me?" I am forced to associate the word "warmth" with my lovely home. My parents very successfully built a warm home for me and for those around me. All of my friends felt comfortable to simply drop by, hang out with my mom, or steal food from our kitchen. The next question that seemed to concern everyone in the first few weeks of the program was, "how do you cope?" I answered honestly. It is very hard for me to find the time in our jam-packed schedule to breathe, process, and truly think about home. Yes, I have my moments. Especially as time passes, I begin to feel the absence of home, for the longer I am here and as the intensity increases, I grasp for any piece of home that I can find.

If I were given the opportunity to go home right now, I would not take it. My family, the thing that grounds me, still remains there. Yet, my friends, a gigantic piece of my "home" are absent. If I returned now, it would not feel like home. I am willing to accept that. After graduating high school, we all entered a period in our lives where we must learn to build transitory homes. Lastly I answered the question "How do I build a home here?" As someone in the middle of the process, it is hard for me to lend a concrete solution. A home is a complex vessel. When I first arrived in Israel, I felt like a complete outsider. Especially as a Jew who feels very connected to this place, it was difficult for me to reconcile feeling like someone on the fringes of society in my home for the year. That feeling has certainly diminished in the Mechina. So do I feel at home here? Well, (AT THE TIME OF THIS SEMINAR I ANSWERED) not yet. But I have time. It is difficult to define what makes a home. After returning to Jerusalem every free weekend, I have understood that family alone does not make a home. It took me time to feel at home in my family's house. So what does make a home? My two associations with the word "home" are effortless and comfort. However, in order to build the home it requires one to try and to put forth an absurdly large amount of effort. The ultimate goal is to feel that it requires no effort to inhabit ones position in the group, in our home. Until we create that comfort, I find comfort in what I can. Sometimes it is the language that I crave, sometimes it is smaller objects and moments that are significant to me. For example, at home I have a pool. In Yafo, I have the sea. At home I bake challah with my mother. In Yafo, I bake challah with Yudko. Home is a fluid and malleable concept. My parents showed me one form of a home, and every home that I build will retain some of its core characteristics. Yet, I find those replacements while I am simultaneously open, willing, and ready to embrace new customs and concepts of home.

MORE ON THE SEMINAR:
In Har Halutz I experienced the most spirited simchat torah hakafot. All of the mechinistim, the community in har halutz, and the alumni of the mechina were together. It was amazing to see the strength of the connection that the alumni still feel towards the Mechina. After the hakafot, we split up into groups of three to eat shabbas dinner with host families. Nadav Marmur, Matan Ben Or, and myself were placed with an American family who had made aliyah 6 weeks early. We had a really wonderful time, but the fun began after dinner. This family had a hot tub, and told us that we were absolutely welcome to use it whenever we wanted to, we just had to be quiet. After we returned from dinner and finished our "wrap up the day" discussion, we decided to return to the hot tub. Matan, Marmur, Yudko and myself sat in the jacuzzi and stargazed silently for a long while. We came without a watch or an agenda. It was exhilarating. We just sat there, with a phenomenal view of the lights of the surrounding yishuvim and arab villages, and I processed all that I had done during my first month in the mechina. At some point, the jets were turned on. As I said, we did not bring a watch. At some late hour we decided that it was time to leave, so Matan pressed the button to stop the jets. Nothing happened. He tried again. nothing. Him and Yudko filled with the buttons for a while, holding it down, tapping it lightly....nothing. After twenty minutes, although it was never said, we all panicked a bit. I said something to the affect of, "What happens if we cannot fix it?" And Matan answered with, "That is not a possibility." In the end, we could not fix it. So I bravely dressed, and walked up to the front door of the family at some ridiculous hour of the night. I knocked as someone was locking the door from the inside. I am positive that I scared one of the children entirely. After a few minutes the father came down and I explained the situation. I was expecting a mean reaction, but the first thing that came out of his mouth was, "Aw, I'm so happy that you all enjoyed yourselves!" That squelched my guilt slightly, to see that he was not angry. The boys waited for me as I finished getting dressed by the jacuzzi. The second I began to walk away, the jets mysteriously turned off. After a good half an hour of panic, they turned off. It turns out they were on a timer. Hm, it is the memories like these, the absolutely absurd ones that i hold onto the most.

Other quick notes: We also walked to a neighboring Arab village and talked to Druzim there about their religion, culture, and ties to the state of Israel. We then visited a various places, including a Mechina for the physically disabled. It was a powerful experience. We had some discussion time where we asked each other questions. Inbal asked how the Mechina was helping them with their lifestyles and what it gave to them. I expected some great sweeping answer, but one of the girls answered by saying, "Before i joined the Mechina I had never even thought about the possibility of taking a bus or traveling by myself." In the Telem Mechina, we travel by bus alone every two weeks. It was never something that I had even considered as a potential obstacle for someone. The entire experience truly offered us a difficult dose of perspective.


The other pictures from the seminar and from October, in general...

First month at a glance...

I know that blogs are supposed to be gradual...but I missed out on almost two months of adding photos and moments. So I am currently doing my best to catch you all up, and once i accomplish that THEN, only then, can I discuss what is going on with me now. I will attempt to do the "update" in two posts, each one pertaining to a month that has passed....but who knows, it may become a few more....

So sit back, breathe, and enjoy this long, long, long entry.

In the second week, we woke up at 3 am one morning. Why? To go pray Slichot before Rosh Hashanah, of course. We all rolled out of bed, drank shoko b'sakit (translation = chocolate milk in a bag, for all of the sad people out there who have never experienced this), put on our modest clothing, and walked to a Sephardic synagogue. Sadly, I spent most of the service standing on my toes trying to see over the separation; yet it was an interesting experience nonetheless.

After the Slichot at 3 am, the entire group walked to the beach where we performed our own version of tashlich- a ceremony in which one throws away one's sins into water.


One of the things that I had anxiously anticipated, and that we spent HOURS discussing in the first week, was how to "do" Shabbat in the Mechina. Shabbat is extremely personal. Each person understands it and observes in an entirely unique way. I always receive the question: Do you keep shabbat? And for the longest time I answered, "Yes. It may not be your definition of
"keeping shabbat," yet I observe it." However, in the last two weeks my answer to the question has changed. My idea of shabbat has greatly opened up, and I'm not even sure if I would consider myself as someone who "keeps shabbat." Currently, i am just doing my best to find what feels right; what feels the most meaningful to me. Although we made many decisions, (in my opinion) thus far, every shabbat has been an entirely different experience. We are still very much figuring out how to make shabbas work, and how to make it meaningful for everyone. The texture of each shabbat feels differently, and different aspects reach out to me depending on the week...For example, my favorite moment of the first shabbat was a small tiyul that Gabriella, Errel, and myself took in Old Yafo. In the second shabbat, it was the spontaneous oneg shabbat that occurred after dinner. I am not complaining. I enjoy surprises. However, routine is something that I find much comfort in. So I am patient. I anxiously await the day when I look forward to some ritual that is specifically meaningful to every member of the Mechina...but until then, we are still experimenting.


This is how we communicate with our neighbors across the hall.

IN SHORT: the first month flew by. It was filled with an opening seminar, MANY hours spent in rooms making decisions about shabbat, kashrut and tefillah, learning how to live in an apartment with 3 girls and 7 boys, a first aid course, getting to know Yafo, and experiencing the high holidays in Israel.

A note on the high holidays: It is very bizarre to experience the high holidays in a certain way for your entire life, and then for it to suddenly change. For me, it was difficult to connect with Rosh Hashanah in Israel. It simply did not feel like the Rosh Hashanah I am used to-- you know, the holiday always filled with very long and sometimes painful services, the 5 million people that you do not see the rest of the year, and the catching up with friends. However, Yom Kippur, although different, struck me as much more meaningful in Jerusalem. It was a powerful experience. In Saint Louis, I am used to missing school on Yom Kippur, driving to shul, fasting while everyone in the outside world is eating, and passing the time with my friends. Yet in Israel, Yom Kippur does not just belong to the religious, or those who choose to observe it. It belongs to everyone. The atmosphere is simply filled with meaning, understanding, cleansing.
In the evening, we went to Kol Nidre at HUC to hear my aunt Naami Kelman deliver a sermon, which I especially connected to, for half of the content discussed my family's roots. I was blown away by Naami's oratory skills, I am sure that she moved everyone with her speech. The line that I remember most clearly was when we firmly said, "Even when you think that God has abandoned you, do not abandon God."
After the service, Daphi and I left the Hebrew Union College in our white garb and began to walk towards Emek Refayim in the center of the road. In most situations, (ESPECIALLY IN ISRAEL) it is quite dangerous to wander in the middle of the road. However, on Yom Kippur, one of the aspects that adds to the change in atmosphere is the lack of transportation. Only hundreds of people traveling by feet and the bikers took advantage of the abandoned roads. As we approached Emek Refayim, all I could see was a wave of white. Hundreds of fasting (and non-fasting) people covered in white clothing had gathered at what seemed like "schmooze central." I found a nice little group of Mechina members, and stood with them as I processed how wonderful it was to see them outside of the framework of the Mechina.

During the first month, I returned to Jerusalem 4 times. The first time was a relief, but after that it became too much. All I wanted to do was settle in somewhere, yet I was absolutely prevented from doing that. It took some time to figure out how to deal with the coming-and-going. It seems to me that it is simply another component of the Mechina, learning to be flexible and to deal with change.

the beginning.

I'm not so sure where to start with the pictures, so we will rewind 6 weeks to the beginning...that seems fitting. These were a few of the first photographs that I took on our Opening Seminar. We had just discussed the area (which was between Jerusalem and Tel Gezer), and finished a bonding activity in which we each led our blind-folded pair up a million stairs. At the top we sat down and prepared our first meal together...and me, not knowing exactly what to do with myself, took out my camera.





During one activity on the third day of the Opening Seminar, we were split up into groups. The only supplies that we were given were flour, one bowl, a block of cheese, and some tomato sauce. It was up to the group to make a creative lunch. In the end, we made pizza.


To sum up the Opening seminar in a few words: We walked a lot, talked in pairs, had a small taste of the type of discussions that awaited us in the Mechina concerning kashrut, shabbat, tefillah (prayer), and more. I'll be honest. I expected the absolute WORST from this beginning. I went in believing that I would understand nothing, make no connections, have a terrible time....Yet I am happy to report, that it was an amazing beginning. There was an immediate calmness to the group which I have never encountered in all of my experiences with new people. Everyone was supportive and interested from the first moments. This last picture was taken at the end of the Seminar as we gazed into an incredible view of Israel at dusk. Aharale made sure to point out Yafo. We then loaded the bus and arrived at our new home.

Sorry for the lack of interesting descriptions about the Opening Seminar. This is quite new to me. I'll improve. promise.

Why?

I do not understand blogs.

Pause. rewind.

That is not entirely true. I understand the purpose of a blog and very much enjoy reading about the exciting adventures of others, yet I am unable to picture myself as a blogger. Similar to how one is not a "morning person" or a "beach person," I simply am not a "blog person." Blogs tend to reflect who the writer is in many (or few) words, how the writer understands her situation, and what she learns from it. However, words have never been my strength. Images are. I have willingly lugged my big-ish Nikon D60 with me to almost every interesting (and not so interesting) location that we have been to in the Mechina thus far, and I have captured some incredible moments. To spot the perfect image, snap the picture, and hear the swift sound that the camera makes is an exhilarating feeling. But what about after? Sharing my pictures after is an area that needs much improvement. Photographs are meant to be shared. Especially now, when I am so far away from my family and friends, and rarely get the opportunity to truly update them. So this semi-blog is the perfect outlet to share my experience and point of view to all who care to see them. I will do my absolute best to post photos regularly (no promises though!) with descriptions, and maybe even write down an occasional thought. I am starting this blog with an open mind. I have a vision for it, yet i understand that a blog is a fluid concept. It may start out with images, switch to words, I may write many entries or none, there is also the possibility of it trailing off in some unforeseen direction. So please, bear with me as I begin this new cyber-adventure in an attempt to share my true and concrete explorations.

Enjoy.

P.S. Tomorrow I will begin to put up the pictures. Also, tomorrow is a big day. we start our classes and volunteering...wish me luck! I'm really, REALLY, going to need it.

PPS. Props to Tamar, my wonderful roommate, who developed this idea of a photo blog and encouraged me to do it.